Including the History of the bought papers

Molly Bloom's life is more interesting than that of James Joyce. ( )

I'm pass my James Joyce phase. I will come back to this book though. ( )

As I close the final page of any biography I usually feel a little melancholy, sometimes awe and gladness to have gotten to know a remarkable person. Sometimes too I wish I hadn't learned so much. In the case of the Joyces it was mostly the latter two, in an even mix of awe and dismay. I was glad to know Nora better, less glad to know Joyce (the person, not the writer). The two of them as a couple? Maddox builds a strong case that no one except Nora really had a clue about the man -- which he well knew and which, in some ways formed the bedrock basis of their marriage, that is, she knew he was a remarkable genius with language as well as who he was as a man. As well, he knew who Nora was and to him, she wasn't what other people saw (Nora was from Galway! Western Ireland was the back of beyond in a country that was already the back of beyond therefore she had to be rough and stupid.) Nor was Nora Molly Bloom. For one, she was utterly faithful to Joyce. She was intelligent albeit not well educated, a big difference. Joyce loved her voice, and loved the way she put words together, listened intently to her cadences but the most remarkable thing was that she was Herself. Grounded. Solid. Steady. After ten years on the continent, she spoke fluent Italian and German and later in life learned passable French, knew countless operas (which she adored) by heart. She dressed elegantly, could cook perfectly well --- a good deal of the time they lived in horrible rooms in mediocre hotels with no kitchen and so had to eat out -- others assumed they ate out because she couldn't cook. Not so. Joyce found her presence necessary to him to keep him from flying apart and Nora obliged because he never ceased to surprise her with his own wit and observations and she loved his singing voice and, as I said, agreed with him that he was something special. They loved each other. Ah well -- they were also spendthrifts and dreadful parents, really abominable, but clearly loved their children. Once the two reached young adulthood the Joyces couldn't accept it and made bad decision after bad decision to keep them both too close, tough reading. Through it all Joyce wrote and wrote. He died not long after finishing Finnegan's Wake as if once he had emptied himself, he had no further reason to live. Nora went on for another ten years or so, in part to care for her grandchild. I have to say that my vision of the Joyces is one of unrelieved chaos, disturbing and sad overall, but out of which, somehow, came the most remarkable literary work of the 20th century. **** ( )

Feel like I know her —
great accomp. to Dubliners by James
she was his Irish Galway Joyce
girl went off w/ him — unmarried 21 yrs
one bk Joyce made up own language
"Work in Progress" — Finery on Wake
Pg 307 — mental illness with daughter Lucia
she Nora didn't feel singled out By father
Nora + JJ — worth anti-Irish he built his art on it — men in pubs women in drunk
All knew people — Nancy Cunard, Tom Becket
Peggy Guggenheim
JJ — history of family — hist of world
female char — universal mother — liffey River of life — women speak universal tongue

3 Bks Compare
Nora — J Joyce wife
Z — Zelda FS. Fitzgerald's wife
Aviator's Wife — Lindbergh
All strong women @ same time in history knew each other in Europe
not easy living with these genius writers — so insecure, temperamental — true with all great men?

Nora was twenty years old and penniless when she eloped from Ireland with Joyce, a man of brilliant promise but few accomplishments whom she'd known but three months. She remained with him until his death thirty-seven years later, bearing him two children, governing a succession of unruly households in Trieste, Paris, and Zurich, holding him and the family together through the force of her own formidable pluck. Most importantly for Joyce's work, Nora served as his "portable Ireland," his living link to the homeland he used as the basis for his masterpieces.